


Holding You

by electricblueninja



Series: The Five Love Languages [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Affection, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27728488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricblueninja/pseuds/electricblueninja
Summary: To Cas, this is heaven on earth.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: The Five Love Languages [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988281
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	Holding You

_I love you, Dean._

_More than you could ever understand._

_You made me question everything._

_There were many times before I met you when I questioned Heaven. But each time, they would reprogram me, and I would become their weapon once more._

_After I met you, they couldn't do that anymore. First, you were a symbol of freedom: you reminded me of my doubts, and you gave me the strength to rebel._

_Then, you became my cause. You became my everything. I now find it difficult to know whether I saved you, or you saved me._

_Perhaps we saved each other._

_For me, to be able to provide you with this pure, unadulterated fulfilment is a perfect and beautiful thing. You deserve so much more. You deserve to feel this always. But if I can give you even a fragment of what you deserve, that is already more than enough. And I'm grateful to be the one to do it._

Dean smiles and huffs a laugh when I remind him that I don't need to breathe, but I can see that he is still mostly elsewhere. Periodically, another shudder courses through him. I marvel at the waves of pleasure radiating from him, and bask in the secondhand glow.

Eventually, he returns from his personal heaven to an earthly plane, and looks down at me. His eyes are shining in the firelight. Sweat glistens on his forehead. I do not expect him to reach out to me, but he does; pulling me up by my tie and my shoulder, his lips hungry for mine. 

I don't resist, rising to my feet and leaning over the armchair to kiss him. My mouth feels sort of swollen. The sensations of kissing him are different as a result. This mouth is, presumably, not accustomed to performing the kinds of acts that I just made it do. 

Dean's hands linger: one on my shoulder, and the other still gripping my tie. Looking down at him, seeing the quiet wonderment and gratification in his eyes, I feel a surge of something that I do not have a name for. Possessiveness, perhaps, but it is more than that. It contains an element of yearning, among other things. It is strange and complex. 

I love this man. What I feel, though, is not...it's not pure. It is both an emotional and physical thing. It is the intermingling of my affections and the throbbing of my vessel's...you know. It is not the first time that I have felt this physical sensation, but it's different, because before, it was outside of my understanding and control. Before, I shared this vessel with Jimmy. Now, Jimmy has moved on. This body has ceased to be just a vessel. In a much deeper sense, it has become a manifestation of me. 

Dean is very aware of the physicality of this form. He casts his eyes down between us, and his face is suffused with colour again. I see the uncertainty on his face. I see that he wants to give, not just take, but I see also that he is embarrassed by my maleness. It is understandable. He has been conditioned by the world he lives in to doubt everything, including himself. And although society has many phases, the one that he has grown up in is not particularly kind to the people who are attracted to the same sex.

I tilt his chin upwards, forcing him to focus on my face. 

"There is no need for that, Dean. I am fine."

It is flattering to see the traces of lust in his eyes, unfurling just as a plant does when it bursts through the shell of a seed to raise its green leaves above the earth. "But you--you're--"

"There is no urgency." I let my hand rest on his cheek again, feeling a slight shift in the fabric of my reality when he closes his eyes and leans into my touch. It is a confiding action, and that trust fills me with warmth. I try a joke, in an effort to disperse a little of the tension: "I _am_ an angel, remember."

"So, what, you can just magic your boner away?" he asks, without opening his eyes.

"I don't know. I haven't tried."

"Don't."

I lose myself in his eyes as he reopens them. They are like the ocean. 

"You're tired, Dean. You should rest."

He hums his agreement, his head falling more heavily into my hand. Sleep is stealing over him already.

"Stay with me," he murmurs.

"Dean, I--"

"--don't need to sleep. Yeah, I know. That's not why I'm asking, Cas."

"...Oh."

"Stay with me."

"Okay." I steal my hand back to stroke his hair, then pull it away to undress myself. 

He rouses himself for just long enough to do the same, stripping off his clothes to reveal his battered but beautiful body and pad over to the bed.

I follow, climbing in after him. Dean curls himself up on his side, and I fold myself around him (I believe this position is commonly known as 'the big spoon'). My erection makes it difficult to settle down, but I manage: it rests comfortably in the space between his thighs. At the very least, like this, he cannot doubt that he is wanted. And it is a temporary discomfort: it will resolve itself, given time.

"I'm glad you're here, Cas," he mumbles.

"I love you, Dean."

I do not expect him to answer. His breath is slowing, and I think he has fallen asleep, but a few minutes later, muffled against the pillow, I hear him say, "Love you too."


End file.
